


A British Affair

by Stria (Asia117)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, and louis doesn't like that rugby ripoff, harry is just too much of a packer fan, there's no angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, it was bound to happen, in hindsight Louis was sure of that. With Harry being so much in the States and absorbing the culture like a sponge, it was bound to happen.<br/>He'd hoped for the best till the last moment, till the last syllable was uttered from Harry's mouth, he'd hoped it wasn't what he was trying to say, and yet.<br/>His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach dropped to his knees. It wasn't possible, it wasn't happening, no, no, no. he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Can you repeat what you just said, please?”</p><p>For <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/HypervioletPixie/pseuds/HypervioletPixie">Hypervioletpixie</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A British Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HypervioletPixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HypervioletPixie/gifts).



> I'm so late but TANTI AUGURIIII FEDEEEE.
> 
> This is short but I had too much fun writing it, I hope you like it. (Also it's unbeta'd. Oops?)

Eventually, it was bound to happen, in hindsight Louis was sure of that. With Harry being so much in the States and absorbing the culture like a sponge, it was bound to happen.

He'd hoped for the best till the last moment, till the last syllable was uttered from Harry's mouth, he'd hoped it wasn't what he was trying to say, and yet.

His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach dropped to his knees. It wasn't possible, it wasn't happening, no, no, no. he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Can you repeat what you just said, please?”

“I asked you if you want to watch some soc... ehm... – Harry's voice trailed off, realising what he said and blushing furiously – I mean! Some footie! Some footie in tv!”

Louis squinted, his lips in a thin line. “I'm quite sure you didn't exactly say footie, Harold. Nor football. In fact, I am quite sure you said – he made the quote signs with his finger, expression disgusted – soccer, quote unquote.”

Harry's adam apple bobbed up and down, and he shuffled nervously, still red as a tomato. “I mean, I, huh. Actually, I mean. Actually it makes kinda sense to call it soccer?” His voice was small, he was looking at his feet.

Louis arched his left eyebrow. “Oh, really, Harold? And what would be the reason for that?”

“Well,” Harry sighed rather dramatically, and Louis briefly thought that he learned well. “Actually the word originated in Britain, as a contraption to 'association football', and then when they started using it in the States-”

“-We realised it was crap and rightfully abandoned it. So the colonies are using our garbage words, it's what you're saying Harold?” Louis had his harm crossed, and was tapping his foot to _London Calling_ , just to feel more British.

Harry huffed, half playing along and half exasperated. “Um, that's not _exactly_ what I was trying to say, Lou.”

Louis put his hands on his hips. “So where you trying to say that they _improved_ the footie or what Harold? Do I have to withdraw your British citizenship now? Are you a bloody yankee?”

_That_ made Harry snort out one of his seal-like laughs. “Babe, no. of course no, but you know, I've been following the Packers a lot, and they play football, so to make a distinction.”

“You're making up excuses!” Louis was five seconds away from whipping out the Union Jack and belting _London Calling_ at the top of his lungs. Bloody Packers, seriously. Bloody Packers and bloody rugby rip-off they played in the States.

“Lou, love, please, I'm really and truly sorr--” Harry couldn't finish his sentence, because Louis was on him on the cry of _Now war is declared and battles come down_ and the tickle fight started with Harry going down on the couch with a sound similar to a duck being stepped on. Liam once called him “a little menacing ball of fire”, which. Rude, Liam, rude. He wasn't _little_ ; it wasn't his fault Harry was the BFG (Louis prided himself in being a great connoisseur of children's lit. Blame all of his siblings).

Or only BG really, because someone who called the football “ _soccer_ ” didn't have the right to be called friendly. He only had the right of taking Louis' fingers in his ribs and shouldn't even move, really. Not after that thing.

They ended up too tired to keep it on, panting and with various bruises forming where they kicked the other in the attempt of overthrow the other. Louis eyed the clock on the wall; the match had already started.

 

Later they were sitting on the sofa, stuffing their faces with junk food and yelling at the referee, and Louis decided the misdeed had to be punished. Harry was totally distracted, so the following step was of course stick both his index fingers into his ribs to make him jump and squirm as much as possible.

Harry swatted his hands away and pouted. “You're paying for that later.”

Louis smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “No love, _you're_ paying for that stunt you pulled later.”

“Are you still thinking about it? Lou...”

“Don't 'Lou' me, that would have been punished with the capital punishment, had not been me here. You should thank me, really.”

Harry grumbled something akin to _yes, as if_ , but Louis knew he would end up doing what he told him to. He always did.

 

  


 

 

("That's not even my tweeting style, people will know it's not me writing."

"You're whining, love.")

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com)! If you reblog this [post](http://cosenoditea.tumblr.com/post/127508056516/a-british-affair-stria-asia117-one-direction) I'll love you forever and ever.


End file.
